Could it be magic? No. No it couldn't.
He was a friend of a friend of a friend, he was from out of town, he was older than me, he was oh-so-cool and oh my god he fancied me! I was absolutely besotted with him. I must admit, at the age of 22, I was still a little (ok…a lot) wet behind the ears. I’d only ever had long term boyfriends the same age as me and I wasn’t, and still aren’t, the kind of woman who can treat sex and feelings as separate. I fell head over heels for him but he was after an easy shag and knew just how to keep me hooked.

After about 6 months I realised that I didn’t really like the headspace I was in when it came to dealing with him, and I also realised that he was a little bit of a headcase. So, in a moment of strength and clarity, I decided to get rid. Unfortunately, this revelation coincided with me getting my very first place. Being a sofa surfer of no fixed abode, he realised that he loved me and wouldn’t it be a great idea if he moved in with me so we could both save money. Sucker over here fell for it hook, line and sinker.

Within weeks, the magic had well and truly buggered off. I had two jobs because he refused to pay for anything. While I was at my second job, being on my feet for 15 hours a day, he would have people round until 3 in the morning. My flat is a studio flat, bedroom and living room all one room, and I wasn’t allowed to go to bed as people would want drinks and food and I was the one who had to play waitress. If I asked if people could leave so I could go to sleep I would have the piss ripped out of me mercilessly. Nastily. He very quickly, but very subtly, got textbook abusive. This is where I thought I was too wise to get caught up in something like that. I’d read stories about domestic abuse victims, I’d donate to the charities, I was aware of all the tricks the abusers use, but I still fell for it all and I don’t understand how. I never thought I would. I thought I was stronger than that. I never thought it would be me.

Everytime I’d speak he’d pick apart the things I’d say or make fun of imagined speech impediments. Near the end, I barely spoke. If I asked him to contribute to the finances he’d start yelling and screaming about how I was trying to wreck his life. If I asked him to pack up and leave, he’d refuse. If I wanted to get out of the flat to get some air he wouldn’t let me. He would lock and barricade the doors and wouldn’t let me leave. I was terrified. There was nothing I could do. It very quickly turned physical. At first, inanimate objects got the brunt of his rage. My coffee table, chest of drawers and shelving unit all got turned in to kindling. There are still holes on the doors and walls where he’d throw punches or things. Then I was the target. It was just grappling at first; he’d grab me and throw me about. One time, he spat at me. I came over all bold and told him if he did it again I’d slap him. So he hocked up a loogie all over my face. I slapped him. He grabbed me and forced me to the floor with one hand squeezing my neck, his knee on my chest pinning me down, the other hand pulling back and punching the floor closer and closer to my head, all while he screamed in my face about how useless, stupid, annoying, worthless I was. I’d scrunch my eyes shut and beg him to stop, while trying to pretend it wasn’t happening. That was his favourite way of grinding me down. It was almost every day. There didn’t seem to be a ‘trigger’. It didn’t matter if I was nice or mean, if I stood up to him or turned into a passive idiot, I’d get a beating. I’m only a skinny thing and another of his favourite tricks was to grab my forearms near my elbows and grind the bones. He was very strong. It hurt like hell. Near the end of the ‘relationship’ and during another of his rages he had me by the arms, had backed me into a corner and was calmly telling me how stupid I was. He’d never been calm before. Perhaps he was just messing about this time. I tried appealing to him, told him he was really really hurting me and he was going to break my arms if he carried on. He smiled. And squeezed harder. I asked him to let go again. Nope, squeezed harder still. That smile terrified me. He actually thought it was funny. He was enjoying it. So, I thought to myself, this is getting tough now; you have to get out of this. Kick him in the balls, and when he lets go, scarper. I kneed him in the balls, I put everything in to it so fucking hard, and went to pull away but he pulled me back and kicked me in the stomach. Even when his balls must have obviously been screaming at him, he had the piece of mind to take a step back so he could get a good run up. I dropped like a sack of spuds while he stood over yelling about how I was going to have to take him to hospital because he balls were swelling up.

Not long after that last incident, about 7 months after he moved in, I again asked him to leave. And he did. It was like something clicked in his crazy, crazy mind and he quietly packed up his stuff and left. The relief was unbelievable. I found out afterwards that he had routinely beaten his ex-wife quite nastily, and he had proper mental problems although I never found out what they were. I was so angry for so long afterwards. At everyone and everything. I was angry at myself for being such an idiot. Such an unbelievable fucking idiot. Why did I put up with it? For so long? Why the fucking hell was I so infatuated with him?! Why didn’t I turn to anyone for help?! I was angry at his friends for not telling me what he was like. It turned out his friends knew him for the cunt he was and had an idea about what was going on. I was angry at my neighbours when they said in passing that they would hear him going on at me. Why didn’t they help? How could they sit there, with just a wall between us and let that carry on?! God, the anger. It was so explosive. Some of it was justified, some of it wasn’t. And then one day, it just wasn’t there anymore. I had changed. Looking back, I had changed for the worse. I was cynical, pessimistic, empty. Looking back, I really should have gotten help. I never realised at the time (you never do though, do you), just how much of a pit I was in, and just how close I was to falling off the tightrope.

Luckily, everything turned out for the best. I got over it, got my life back on track and everything is looking better and better.

I wittered on for quite a while there, didn’t I? Sorry about that. If you know, or have an inkling that someone is being abused please help them. Please don’t turn a blind eye. You’ll probably (rightly, to be fair) think that it’s none of your business and/or you don’t want to be involved, and they will most likely tell you they don’t want the help. There’s nothing you can do but be there. It means the world.
(Beacon, Mon 25 Oct 2010, 16:54,
closed)

i got punched in the face once
in an underpass in bracknell, for stopping a guy who had a girl pinned against the wall by the neck and was slapping her.

Hope you've managed to leave all that behind properly now.
(MrOliis ugly, but in the morning you will be sober, Mon 25 Oct 2010, 17:27,
closed)

Shit!
There ought to be something like TripAdvisor for blokes, just so you know they are bastards, or married, or chew their toenails, or can't commit, or are secretly gay, or can only do it in the dark and under the duvet.

Mind you in the right/wrong hands it could be a very powerful political tool.
LATEST NEWS: Minister X vocally opposes a scheme to impose a 100% income tax on the lowest earners and lend some of it back to them on easy terms. In other news: after being anonymously accused of rape, Minister X is sacked, publicly reviled and jailed without trial for ten years.

Does Citizen Y believe that it's wrong to slaughter atheists and Muslims like animals just because they don't believe in our God? Then you can anonymously accuse Citizen Y of being a rapist and have their home address, phone number and credit card details posted online.

Dissident Z is a member of a trade union, or a homosexual or something. Accuse Dissident Z of rape and they'll magically transform from an enemy of freedom and democracy into a bloodied, harmless corpse.

been there, kind of
tried several times to help 2 different friends in abusive relationships. i was vilified and badmouthed for my troubles. one relationship only stopped when my friend was killed. the other stopped when that friend was almost killed. forgive me if i stay the hell out of it from now on.
(Smash Monkeymy donkey fell in your waffle hole, Mon 25 Oct 2010, 20:10,
closed)

yes
but accidentally, apparently. it was a car crash. he didn't get so much as a scratch, she was killed outright. i still have my doubts.
(Smash Monkeymy donkey fell in your waffle hole, Tue 26 Oct 2010, 20:39,
closed)

I understand completely
regardless of what I said up there. I'm so sorry.
(Beacon, Tue 26 Oct 2010, 12:14,
closed)

I understand your anger at people not willing to help.
If you read my earlier post on this QOTW. I too went through a similar situation as you did. Perhaps not quite as physical as that. But I was living with a girl who didnt pay a penny, threw knives at me. Had to barricade myself in a room once coz she went nuts. All whilst she was trying to find what she really wanted, and that was a girl.

As an upstanding guy, how can I admit to anyone (except online anonymously) that I let a girl abuse me and treat me so bad in that way. So many people I knew at the time, knew what such a crap situation I was in. People tried to help at first. But because I was infactuated by this girl, those that tried to help were villified.

The problem is, despite being in a crap situation. Theres a huge part of you that doesnt want to leave it. Its only afterwards when youre clear from it physically and emotionally, you look back and think. OMG! Why and How did I put up with that? I think the biggest part of the battle is realising you need to get out of that situation. But like you said, there was a feeling of being trapped. Which is exactly how I felt with this girl. Mainly because of my own feelings, plus threats of suicide. She played the suicide and self harm trick a lot. And because, for some mad reason I cared so much for this woman. I just didnt want to do anything to risk her going downhill and tipping the balance. So yeah, a real feeling of being trapped.

So, I too, was annoyed at friends and family after it for turning such a blind eye, and pretty much letting me get on with it. When in reality I needed bloody support and help. But, would I have listened to anyone trying to get me out that situation? Probably not, and I probably would have hated them for trying.
(Miggyman, Mon 25 Oct 2010, 21:04,
closed)

It's a catch 22 and half, that one
I get what you're saying, completely. Its such a mad situation to be in, like the whole world has gone a bit crooked.